What Happens in the Dungeons
by Tuzilla
Summary: Harry goes exploring in the dungeons on a boring Saturday afternoon. What will he find? Who will he see? What will he say? What will he learn?
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

It was lunchtime and Harry was bored. It was a beautiful autumn Saturday. Ron and Ginny were at a rare, private family gathering that included the entire family. Hermione was at her parent's home. Neville, Luna and seemingly everyone else he might consider hanging out with were either gone or otherwise occupied. Even the quidditch pitch was vacant. Not a soul one was available to practice or scrimmage with him. What could he find to fill all of his empty time?

" _I've got to find something to do_ ," he thought. " _I'm going bonkers just sitting here_."

If he was Neville, he would go searching the bogs and lake for rare water plants. Luna would probably be venturing out on a hunt for the elusive crumple-horned snorkack or feeding the thestrals. Hermione would probably be sitting by the lake reading a book she had just found in the library. But that was not for him. He preferred more 'interesting' diversions as his mind would call them. Unfortunately, nothing of the sort was popping into his mind.

As he finished a pumpkin pasty, he pondered the idea of going into Hogsmeade and wandering through the shops. Hermione would be okay with a solo venture like that. She could always go into the bookstore and snoop around. However, it did not seem very appealing to him. He preferred company for a trip such as that.

He grabbed his book bag as he got up and walked into the entry area near the Grand Staircase. At first, he started to go up. However, he could not think of a thing to do or reason to go that way. Instead, he started down into the dungeons. There were parts he had never seen. Parts he had only heard about.

" _Maybe there is something interesting to find or see down there_ ," he thought.

It was not long before he was passing beyond the most familiar parts of the dungeons. Everyone knew the areas in and around the Potions classroom and its adjoining facilities, including Snape's office.

A queasy feeling had gripped his stomach as he suddenly considered what might happen if Snape were to appear in the corridor. He would certainly query him as to why he was skulking about the dungeons…Snape would surely use the word skulking, or possibly prowling…on such an autumn Saturday.

" _Whew_ ," he thought having dodged an unwanted encounter. " _I hadn't considered meeting Snape down here. That's the last thing I would have needed. He would surely have interrogated me, then warned about who knows what, and sent me on my way with a sneer and a growl_?"

At least he did not have to fear running into Draco and his crew. Draco almost always was at Malfoy Manor on the weekends hobnobbing with the elite of the pureblood community. That was a displeasure he always enjoying missing.

His soft-soled shoes moved silently through the corridor. He had originally gotten them to go along with his invisibility cloak on his secret escapades. It did not make much sense to be invisible if the crunching of a pair of hard-soled shoes was announcing your every step. They were so comfortable that he soon took to wearing them all of the time.

He passed the stairs that would lead to the Deathday Party Hall, Slughorn's office via the cave and several other areas including the way to the Slytherin common room and dormitories. He was now in the area where the detention cells sat vacant…enduring vestiges of a different time only mourned for by Argus Filch.

He walked stealthily into the deeper reaches of the dungeons. It gave him a creepy feeling, but that was to be expected. The only life he encountered other than a few rats, insects, spiders and the like was a pair of older Slytherin girls engaged in a make-out session that seemed headed in a 'more' intimate direction.

They gave him quite a start, as he did them when he suddenly happened upon them. It took him a second to realize it was a pair of girls, not a boy and a girl. He was suddenly taken aback.

You could see the shock and fear in the eyes of the girls as they quickly jumped up. They hurriedly attempted to fasten buttons, pull up, rearrange and straighten their clothes while fleeing as rapidly as possible. It ended as quickly ended as it started amidst a clatter of footsteps as they escaped without making any further eye contact.

Harry was frozen like he had been hit by a full-body bind curse for several seconds. Of the things on his list of things he thought it possible to encounter on this little foray, this was not one of them.

" _Wait until the guys hear about this_ ," thought Harry with a grin as he regained his composure. " _This is cooler than when Lavender and Pavarti caught Mickey and that Hufflepuff girl doing it down by the lake. The whole school knew about it in about an hour. They're lucky they didn't get expelled_. _If Mickey's parents didn't have friends at the Ministry…well, they were lucky_."

The detention cells, while not officially off-limits, were considered places not to be visited. There were many stories about them. They were said to be haunted, and not in a nice way like the hauntings by the regular Hogwarts ghosts, or even by the mischievous, obnoxious Peeves. It was said they were home to some truly evil spirits left behind by some of the more sinister prisoners from bygone days.

The dungeons were originally supposed to be an area for the punishing and 'reinstruction' of wayward students. However, so the stories go, they became a place filled with dark witches and wizards who needed to be imprisoned in the days before the building of Azkaban. The Ministry supposedly warehoused unforgivables there using the Hogwarts dungeons as a sort of oubliette for forgetting their problems. None of this has ever been proven, but it is a common tale. He wondered about the real truth.

A cold, dark chill ran up his spine as he walked deeper into the corridor of steel cages. The thick, damp air smelled ugly, like one might imagine the breath of a dementor. This was a place that knew only things like pain, despair, torment, hopelessness and other evil feelings. He could only try to imagine how many poor souls had spent how many countless days, weeks, years in these horrible cells. If a dementor were to happen upon this place, it would surely starve to death unless it fled.

The steel bars making up the front of the cells and their doors were dirty black and appeared to be damp. Everything was covered with ancient cobwebs that where so dust-covered that multitudes of hideous local insects, centipedes, millipedes and other creepy crawlers walked on them with impunity. The occasional active spider web was decorated with many a poor bug that failed to discern the difference between it and the rest of the dirty silk highway lining this place.

As he walked, the enchanted torches that lined all of the halls and corridors of Hogwarts flared to life in front of him as the ones behind him died out. The double row of cages seemed endless as it twisted and turned deeper and deeper into the bowels of the castle. The only interruptions in them were the occasional space with chains hanging from the ceiling for the suspension by the wrists, thumbs, feet, whatever. There were also places to shackle an unfortunate soul to the wall, presumably for flogging or other unimaginable methods of torture. He could almost hear their horrible screams, cries and moans still echoing off the walls around him.

" _This is a horrible place_ ," he thought. " _I can't imagine actually having to be here. How can Filch even feel a second of remorse for no longer having students being forced to serve detention here_?"

He walked for longer than he planned until he finally started to feel the need to turn back. He was ready to give up on finding anything of interest when two torches lit up in the middle of the corridor instead of on the walls. In their light, he could make out a large door sitting between them.

It was just a couple torches further ahead, so he stopped his turn around a walked toward the door. When he got to it, he found it to be made of thick, heavy wood with huge, steel hinges fastening it to its frame. It was secured with a large lock that looked fairly recent by comparison, almost out of place.

He rattled the lock to no avail. He tried Alohomora and several other charms he thought might open the door. None of them had any effect. Even a frustrated Bombarda Maxima did little more than rattle it a bit and cause a few spiders and bugs to fall onto the damp rocks of the floor.

" _I guess this is it_ ," he told himself. " _Might as well get out of here. I don't think there is anything else to see here_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Harry had no more than turned around and started back when he heard something. It almost sounded like the wheels of the wagons being pulled by the thestrals they rode in coming across the bridge into the entrance of the castle. Not knowing what to expect, he ducked into the closest cells. He would prefer to get a glimpse of whatever it was before it spotted him.

He hoped it was just some other students as the sound grew closer. He would even settle for it being Filch, or even Snape. He had no desire to find himself confronted with some kind of unknown evil such as a troll or ghoul this far down into nowhere.

As the sound kept getting closer, he began getting flickers of light as the torches started to light just back around the last bend. The torches near him had extinguished themselves as he stood motionless. He held his breath as they were brought back to life by the approaching sounds.

Finally, the face of a thestral, followed by the rest of the thestral and a small wagon came into view. Two house-elves were driving it. As it passed, he could see it was carrying what appeared to be food and water.

He breathed a breath of relief as they passed him and stopped just short of the door. The elves jumped down and one of them snapped its finger. The giant lock opened. The other elf removed the lock and the two of them pulled the door open.

A blast of hot, sick, putrid air that almost made the rest of the air in the dungeon smell sweet by comparison hit Harry as the light from further inside illuminated the area. The elves got back onto the wagon and the thestral pulled it through the doorway. As the wagon clamored onward, Harry poked his nose out of the cell for a better look.

" _What the bloody hell is this place_?" he thought.

Harry suddenly remembered his invisibility cloak was still in his book bag. He had been using it a couple of nights before to prank Neville. He pulled it out and covered himself as he walked toward the doorway.

Reaching the doorway, he cautiously stepped through it. The fetid air was filled with large, green flies buzzing about. One side of the room was a long row of cells guarded by about fifty of the biggest, meanest-looking soldiers he had ever seen. They held onto spears stained with the blood of the poor unfortunates that dared to cross them.

The other side was reserved for torturing the inmates. Dozens of them dressed in tattered rags, if anything at all, hung from chains by various appendages. Ugly, fat, muscular men in leather aprons, boots and masks were lashing their backs with whips and cat o' nine tails. Some were beating the soles of prisoners' feet with wooden or iron rods. One was poking a screaming woman with a glowing red poker.

The place smelled horribly of urine and feces, which covered the floors. There were certainly no bathroom facilities for the prisoners. One prisoner was vomiting as she was struck. It ran down the front of her near-naked body and onto the floor as her tormentor laughed and hit her again. Everywhere blotches of ugly green guck were oozing up through the cracks between the stones of the ancient floor.

Off to one side, a sinister-looking midget with a bucket and a mop was laughing in a demented manner as he scrubbed at the floor. No matter how much of the rancid gunk he cleaned away, more appeared to replace it.

Harry's thoughts were strangely lyrical, Almost a sort of dark poetry as he tried to take it all in.

" _Who are these all people_

 _locked away down here_?" he thought.

 _"Are they demented?_

 _Are they deranged?_

 _Are they all crazy?_

 _Are they insane?_

 _Are they criminals?_

 _Murderous thieves?_

 _Are they dangerous?_

 _Needing a chain?_

 _Ministry Rivals?_

 _Political foes?_

 _Are they fallen saints_

 _of a lost faith?_

 _Or broken heroes_

 _from a lost cause?_

 _Who are they really?_

 _Do I wanna know?"_

In the meantime, the house-elves had unloaded the food and poured several buckets of vile-looking gruel into troughs which were probably intended for the prisoners. They poured water in a second trough. The prisoners, at least the ones who could, had to eat from the troughs much like pigs eating slop.

Other foods made up of mostly large chunks of meat and potatoes were piled onto tables near the guards and tormentors along with a beer of what looked to be beer as the poured it into their crude mugs. They began to devour it all ravenously. Surely their appetite was the result of the physical effort expended in the torturous activities. It at least gave many of the prisoners a break from their abuse.

Finally, they started to unload onto a cart that appeared to be a gourmet meal…a meal fit for a king…a meal better than any served in the students and staff in the Great Hall at all but the grandest of occasions. There was a roasted suckling pig with an apple in its mouth. Fancy presentations of vegetables and fruits. And a glorious cake. All it was accompanied by a couple of barrels, probably containing wine.

Further in one of the tormentors was tending a large, iron fire puffer of a device that expelled occasionally blasts of flame for who knows what reason. Beyond that, a pair of tormentors were closing a prisoner inside a device he recognized from a history book as an iron maiden. Alongside it were stocks, bonds, pillories and other devices of restraint used to secure a person while punishment was meted out.

The elves pushed the cart into a room off to the side of the torture chamber. Harry had to see where it was going…who was partaking of such an elaborate feast in this otherwise horrible place.

He walked up to the corner of the alcove and peered in. There he saw a fancy, formal dining room with glowing candles and the finest of silver plates and cutlery. At the head of the table sat a solitary man dressed in regal clothes. He had thick, long, black hair that draped down over the fur collar of his red coat. The coat was closed with large, gold pins or buttons, he could not tell. He had a straight, neat mustache that extended two or three inches further than the width of his mouth on both sides. His eyes were shiny, almost hypnotic black coals separated by a large, sharp, thin nose. On his head sat a red domed hat with a thick band made up of several rows of diamonds instead of a brim. Center front was a gold star holding a ruby the size of a golden snitch. He was sure the women would find him exotically handsome.

Once the food was all in place an elf poured him a flagon of what looked to be tomato juice. He downed it and thumped the flagon on the table for another. After downing the second flagon of juice he picked up a large carving knife and fork. He cut off the snout and trotters of the pig with practiced ease.

He consumed them with some fancy vegetables and another flagon of juice. He moved on to remove the loins and groins with surgical precision. They were soon gone, as well, along with more vegetables and juice.

He moved onto eating fruit with the hams. Finally, he stabbed the knife into the table and said in a very loud voice "All men be cursed!" He then jammed the fork into the table, repeating his epitaph. He repeated it twice more as he pounded the flagon on the table.

The elves served him his ornate dessert cake to which he cursed them, demanding a glass of something called Pălincă. They poured it from one of the barrels. The other barrel being the source of the juice he relished.

While he finished his dessert, the elves loaded everything back onto the wagon. Once he had finished, they cleared the rest of the table. When they started to climb onto the wagon Harry knew he needed to get out of there. If they left and closed the door, who knows how long he might be trapped there.

He made his way back to the cell where he had previously hid. He waited until the elves and their wagon had passed out of earshot. Then he uncovered himself and headed back toward the exit to the dungeons at a rapid pace.

As he made his way to the top of the Grand Staircase and entered the main part of the castle, the question " _What in the bloody hell kind of a place did I just find_?" was pounding in his mind. The incident with the girls was almost forgotten.

Since everyone was still gone, especially the "insufferable know it all" and his best female friend Hermione, he did not know who to talk to about this place. Fortunately, Professor Dumbledore came walking towards him from the direction of the library.

"Professor," called out Harry. "Professor Dumbledore."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

"Ah, Harry, my lad," said Dumbledore as he turned and walked over to him. "How are you? Are you enjoying your classes this term?"

"I am fine, professor," he answered. "My classes are great. I am enjoying them, especially Defense Against the Dark Arts. I really like Professor Lupin".

"Wonderful. Professor Lupin has told me many complimentary things about you, as well."

"There something I would like to ask you about."

"Of course, Harry. Ask away?" said Dumbledore.

"I was bored and I decided to go walking about…" he began.

"…I see you are alone," interrupted Dumbledore. "I take it Ron and Hermione went away for the weekend."

"Yes, they are with their families," answered Harry. "Anyway, I went down into the dungeons. I thought I might waste some time walking around exploring."

"That is a dangerous place to explore. There are many oddities to be found in them, and you can also get lost."

"In retrospective, I must agree with you. It is not a good place to wander."

"So, what is it you want to ask me about?" queried Dumbledore. "Did you see or find something down there? I sense something is troubling you."

"Oh yes, professor," said Harry, now recalling the girls as much as the torture chamber.

"What did you see down there?" asked Dumbledore, not expecting, even with his usually incredible clairvoyance in things such as this, what he was about to hear.

"I found an old door. It was locked. But along came a wagon with some house-elves driving it. They opened the door. I followed them inside. It was the most hideous, horrible place I have ever seen. I could have never imagined it on my own. People were being tortured everywhere, and they were being starved. I cannot believe many of them were still alive."

Dumbledore seemed a bit shaken by what he had heard. He took Harry by the arm and started walking. "I think we need to go up to my office," he said.

"Whatever you say, professor."

A few moments later they were in the headmaster's office. Harry was feeling a bit uneasy. He was wondering if he was in trouble.

"Did I do something wrong, professor?" he asked with a nervous quiver in his voice.

"Alas, no Harry," said Dumbledore in his calm, soothing, unshakable way. "Curiosity is not a crime, but it can be dangerous."

"So what did I find, if I may ask?"

"Ah, you found a place that was hoped to have been hidden from all. You have discovered a part of Hogwarts meant to be kept hidden away from the world. A part of our history from when our dungeons were the only place the Ministry had to house its most incorrigible, dark witches and wizards. A part of our history of which we are not proud…of which we wish forgotten, but are destined to hold for all time."

Harry seemed a little puzzled by the words of Dumbledore. "Are you saying the old stories and tales are all true? That it our dungeons were really a prison before Azkaban was built? If that's true, then why are there still people there? Why aren't they in Azkaban?"

"That is a very good question," replied Dumbledore. "Why, indeed?"

He looked at Harry, who was looking back in anticipation of an actual answer to his questions. He seemed to be thinking, sorting and shuffling through his words for the best way to explain things.

"I am not certain I should tell you the details of the place you found, Harry," he finally began. "It has remained a secret only know and passed down from headmaster to headmaster, and Minister for Magic to Minister for Magic for nearly three hundred years. No one alive knows of its existence except for former Headmaster Armando Dippet, Minister for Magic Cornelius Fudge, me, and now—you."

"Since I have found it, professor," started Harry, "I think I should at least…"

"Yes, Harry, I understand your curiosity," interrupted Dumbledore. "It is only natural for you to want to know more. I am just wondering how to explain it."

"You've always told us to start from the beginning when you do not know where to begin," said Harry, using some of the wisdom Dumbledore had used on him and many other students over the years.

"Of course, Harry," he conceded. "Very well, I will tell you, but you must promise to keep this very secret. You can speak of it to no one else."

"I promise, professor. I will never speak of it to anyone."

Dumbledore drew a deep breath and began speaking. "The Minister for Magic and the Ministry had a lot more influence over Hogwarts first few centuries of its existence. There are theories as to why, but none have been proven. Sometime way back it was decided that a place was needed to lock away certain witches and wizards who were deemed too dangerous to be allowed to walk around freely. It was suggested that the Hogwarts dungeons could provide that type of facility. So, it was agreed that a section of the dungeon would be secured with spells to hold and house prisoners that would find them in Azkaban, today."

"For several centuries the worst members of the magical world were brought here to be locked away. The history books in the library will tell you of many of these people. It will tell you of their misdeeds and that they were imprisoned. But it will never mention where they were imprisoned, which was right under our feet, as you now know."

"But why are they still there? Why aren't they in Azkaban?" asked Harry a second time.

"Yes, why aren't they in Azkaban? That is the question at the heart of this explanation, isn't it?"

"Yes, professor. Why?"

"When the fifteenth-century fortress known as Azkaban was turned into a prison for dark witches and wizards in seventeen-eighteen, the prisoners in our dungeons were slated to be transferred there to serve out the rest of their sentences. No new prisoners would be sent here. However, a certain few of them were deemed too dangerous to move. They were going to stay here for the rest of their lives under the guardianship of their muggle overseer, a prisoner named Vlad Tepes, voivode of Wallachia. Some people called him Vlad the Impaler."

"I have heard that name, professor," said Harry. "Isn't he Count Dracula, the vampire?"

"Yes, yes, Harry. He is also known as Count Dracula, the most famous of vampires," confirmed Dumbledore. "They thought they killed him during a battle in fourteen-seventy-seven. They even cut up his body and sent his head to Mehmed II. But he didn't die. He couldn't die. That is why no corpse or bones were ever found in his tomb. He lives the cursed, immortal life of a vampire, killing victims by draining away their blood for sustenance. That is until he was captured and imprisoned here."

Count Dracula was imprisoned here?" asked Harry in an incredulous voice, his eyes wide open.

"Was and still is, Harry," answered Dumbledore in a calm, matter-of-fact voice. "That was him you described dining on the pig and drinking flagons of blood."

Harry was at a point of being beyond words. "Blood!" his mind screamed. "That red juice was blood?" He had faced Voldemort twice since coming to Hogwarts. Now he had looked in on Count Dracula, himself. How much worse…how much weirder could things be around here? He was just now beginning to find out.

"When Vlad found out that he was among a select few prisoners who would not be leaving with the others he used some kind of pagan magic, some ancient magic of the Romani gypsies from his homeland to curse everyone to be bound to this place, to never be able to leave it."

"I see, professor," said Harry, still a bit confused. "But that was like almost three hundred years ago. Those people should have died a long time ago. Who are the people who are there? Didn't you say no one has been sent there since Azkaban opened?"

That is correct, Harry," replied Dumbledore. "All of the people still remaining there under the curse of the Count did indeed die a long time ago. The last one about two hundred and fifty years ago."

Harry looked at him, waiting for more. There was obviously more. He still had not told him who all of the people are that are currently being imprisoned there.

"You see, Harry," he continued after a pause. "The people you saw are neither people or alive…"

"…Then they are ghosts, professor?" said Harry, uncharacteristically interrupting Dumbledore.

"Not exactly…" replied Dumbledore. "…they're the demonic souls of the prisoners left behind when they died. The demons within them could not die. So, when the person died, their demonic soul was left behind, trapped for all eternity to be tortured in this, for lack of a better term, slice of Hell. Only Vlad, who is immortal, is still as he has always been."

"What about the guards and the others?"

"The guards and others also died long ago. Evil as they may have been, they were not possessed by demons. When they died, their souls left. The guards and tormentors you saw are demons straight out of Hell sent there by the devil to do his work. And oh yes, the house-elves. They are bound to feed all of them once every day or two. They apparate as close as the spells allow them to the entrance and prepare the food on their enchanted wagon. No one, until you, has ever detected them in the execution of their duties. I take it you were using your invisibility cloak. Otherwise, they would have vanished immediately."

"So what is going to become of this place?"

"I am afraid it is going to be there forever, that is unless the devil tires of them and it and releases them from the curse. As for Vlad, I cannot say. Now I must implore you once again to keep this place your most carefully guarded secret. But I think we should not dwell on it any longer. I suggest you go down to dinner and find other things to occupy your mind."

"Thank you, professor. I promise to keep this a secret," said Harry as he started toward the door.

The rest of the weekend passed. On Monday, Harry headed to lunch with Ron, Ginny and Hermione. It was their first opportunity to catch up and the events of the weekend.

As he walked into the dining hall for dinner, he bumped straight on into the two Slytherin girls he had encountered down in the dungeon.

"Excuse me," he said, smiling at them as he reached out and braced the one with whom he had actually made contact. "Didn't see you there. Sorry."

At first, they looked at him with blank, annoyed expressions. Then as they recognized him and he also recognized them, a flare of embarrassment pink started to quickly cover their faces. Both of them forced smiles as they turned to walk away. "It's okay," choked out the one he had bumped.

"What was that all about?" asked Hermione, instantly picking up on the unexpected tension.

"What was what?" he replied like nothing had happened.

"There seemed to be more to that little encounter than a simple bumping together. The expressions on their faces were—well, do you even know the two of them?"

"Yeah," said Ginny as Ron stared, clueless to the subtle hints the girls were so keen to hone in on. "That did seem a bit suspicious."

"I don't know what you mean," replied Harry, maintaining an air of cool indifference.

"Well," said Hermione, obviously still not convinced. "If you say so."

A few minutes later as the group sat eating, he saw the two girls looking at him surreptitiously from across the Slytherin table. He knew that he could own them if he wanted to. But that was not Harry's way. He was above that type of behavior. He would leave that to the Malfoys of the world.

They did their best to cautiously, almost pleadingly smile at him. He returned their smile with a bit of a head nod accented with a wink to let them know everything was cool. It was not bold enough to catch the notice of the others. " _Sometimes, what happens in the dungeons just needs to stay in the dungeons_ ," he thought.


End file.
